


Deterioration

by Siri_Tachi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cuddling Castiel/Dean Winchester, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s14e09 The Spear, Episode: s14e10 Nihilism, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: s14e09 The Spear, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season/Series 14, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Victim Blaming, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:54:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29147022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siri_Tachi/pseuds/Siri_Tachi
Summary: A requested continuation of I Love You, Angel, but can easily be read alone. Codas several of the middle episodes of season 14, and deals further into the aftermath of Dean being possessed by Michael, including depression, victim blaming and abuse.Enjoy the six ounces of projection poured onto this fic.Warnings at the start of each chapter
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Abuse and victim-blaming

_Dean had been in the kitchen, baking a pie._ Ever since coming out to Sam, being able to feel “free” in his relationship with Cas, he had been happier. It was relieving knowing Sam accepted him. But not everyone did. Not for being bisexual, no one seemed to bat an eyelash at that, but for being Michael’s vessel. The looks, the stares, the avoidance, the words about him that would flitter through the air when they thought he couldn’t hear. It got to him, which was frustrating, especially knowing that before, he would’ve, eventually, stood up for himself; but he was still healing from Michael. Oh, who is he kidding, he’s barely healing. _Why is it taking so long?_ This wasn’t him. He was Dean Winchester, after everything he’d been through and bounced back from? This should be easy for him, or at least, routine.

The only thing that had changed was the people around him. Before he would have Sam, Cas, Bobby at first, and his mom later on. Now though, he was surrounded by strangers – constantly. He could escape to his bedroom, or the garage to Baby, but the people would still be there when he got back, still scrutinizing him, still judging him. A few were okay, especially Jules and Maggie; though even Maggie would avoid being in a room alone with him. He supposed he couldn’t really blame them. _He_ wasn’t even sure that he was free of Michael, that at the snap of a finger, he wouldn’t just be repossessed.

Their fear was warranted. Their contempt was not.

_Dean had been in the kitchen, baking a pie._ It had been an accident. He hadn’t meant for it to be addicting. When Philip walked in, he tensed. Philip hated him; he _hated_ him for Michael. Philip had mentioned several times how he wished Dean was still possessed by Michael, because at least then, they knew who their target was. And Dean wished he could shrink into himself, that he wasn’t so tall, so big, that he wasn’t taking up so much space because then, maybe – _just_ _maybe_ – he wouldn’t be noticed, he could be invisible.

_Dean had been in the kitchen, baking a pie_. Philip had walked in with a sigh, “Still here, huh? Acting, _pretending,_ like nothing happened?”

Dean remained silent, he had faced bullies – abuse – before, he could handle it, he could manage. He had to; he wasn’t given another option. Philip roughly spun him around. “I asked you a question, or can you not even answer right? Are you so stupid that you can’t even answer a simple question?” Philip’s voice was full of rage, and dangerously loud. Dean was scared it would draw attention, and the last thing he needed was to be seen as weak on top of everything else.

_Dean had been in the kitchen, baking a pie._ Philip had shoved him backwards, flour flinging from the whisk. “Why are you still here, huh?” Philip demanded, “What good are you doing? You’re just hiding; and doing what? Baking? While we’re out there – _fixing your_ mistake _._ You’re pathetic. Just a body, open and _wanting_ to be possessed. You’d be more useful dead, at least then you couldn’t do any more damage.”

_Dean had been in the kitchen, baking a pie._ Philip shoved him one last time, before quickly leaving the kitchen in a haze of anger. Dean landed on the hot metal of the oven. For a moment, the pain didn’t even register; and when it did, Dean just calmly pulled his hand away, like he wasn’t even aware that the pain was supposed to be _bad._

_Dean had been in the kitchen, baking a pie._ He hadn’t meant for it to spiral.


	2. Episode: The Spear

Cas had stared at him the whole car ride. Not in the normal way either, but rather, like he couldn’t understand Dean. Finally, Dean couldn’t take not knowing anymore, “What? Am I just that beautiful you can’t stop staring?”

Cas smiled, climbing out of the car, “Obviously you are…”

He trailed off, clearly not done with his train of thought, so Dean prompted, grabbing his bag from the back, “What’s up angel?”

“I can’t figure you out right now. One minute you’re…” Cas bit his lip, “But the next you’re happy, ecstatic even, you – we have a broken tape deck, we drove the whole ride without music, and you did not complain once.”

“You know, I’m just fired up, I mean look – we got Jack back. When was the last time we had a big, no strings-attached win like that?” Dean asked.

“But now we have Michael,” Cas reminded.

“I know…”

“And Dean, we’re taking a big risk going after the spear like this,” Cas continued.

Dean sighed, walking toward the warehouse, “I know we are.” Dean paused, looking at Cas, “Listen to me, Michael conned me. Kept trapped and drowning in my own body. Now, when you and Sam were possessed by Lucifer, I-I thought I understood, but I didn’t, not really. So yeah, if we get a chance to trap him, I’ll take that, but I won’t be truly happy until he is dead – and _I_ kill him. And now, I have a chance to do that.”

“But you’re sure you’re alright?” Cas asked, needing to double check.

Dean turned to him, somewhat confused, “Yes, Cas, I’m fine. What is this about?” 

Cas sighed, “I just… When I was in heaven, searching for Jack… Your soul it – well it’s something I never want to feel again,” Cas explained. He didn’t even want to tell Dean what he had felt. Dean’s soul had been dark as of late, even dimmer with the death of Jack, but when he was in heaven, it had felt almost like a black hole. Pure darkness and hopelessness and pain and suffering – Cas shook his head, the memory itself was enough to make him weep, and to try and imagine that Dean – _his Dean_ – had experienced that? He couldn’t bear it.

What looked to be brief panic washed over Dean’s face when he mentioned that time frame. _So something did happen._ Clearly though, Dean wasn’t ready – or willing – to talk about it, “O-oh, right. That was nothing Cas, it was probably when Lily was about to walk out y’know, not help us bring Jack back.”

Dean’s lie may have been believable, had it not been for his unconvincing smile and his all-telling muscles that – after Michael – would flinch whenever he was anxious or stressed – or panicking; that and the fact that Cas hadn’t felt that from him before, at least not that strongly; not even when Kevin or Charlie or Bobby or even Sam had died.

Cas studied him a minute longer, before deciding this was not an argument they needed right now, “Ok. Then let’s get this spear.”


	3. Deterioration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Descriptive depression

The blankets were piled on him, creating a safe cocoon. He had been like this since yesterday, well he thought so at least. Time didn’t mean much anymore; why did it matter anyway? His mind had become a prison – he was trapped, alone, and hopeless. His mind either focused solely on one thing, one painful, heart-rending thought or memory, or it focused on nothing at all, and he was left swimming in pressing nothingness. Tears slipped down his face randomly. He didn’t want to eat or get up; he didn’t even want to breath. It was exhausting anyways. Inflate against the outside world only for it to crush you back in. He knows he _should_ be doing something. He _should_ get up, he _should_ eat, he _should be helping._ But no, the others were right, he was useless, helpless. _Why am I even alive?_

Castiel had come in after not receiving a response for the second day in a row. He had felt the fluctuations coming from his human – from desperate hopeless pleas to terrifying silence. Cas’s own insecurities had kept him from intruding that first day; but he couldn’t wait anymore.

Cas’s knock on the door had been nothing more than static. “Dean?” Castiel waited, but received no answer. Turning the knob slowly, the door opened, and darkness flooded from the room. It wasn’t just the lack of light, no, darkness flooded from Dean’s soul. His once bright, glittering soul now emanated darkness. “Dean…” Cas said softly. The man gave no indication that he had heard him. Cas sat on the empty side of the bed, gently rolling Dean over towards him. He grabbed Dean’s hand, startled by how cold it was despite the many covers, and rubbed slow circles. Cas was heartened when Dean’s fingers curled around his, if only slightly. “Talk to me,” Cas murmured.

Dean brought Cas’s hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it. It was the first movement he’d really done in response to Cas’s presence. Then the clasped hands fell onto the pillow by Dean’s head, as if he didn’t have the strength to hold them any closer. Cas wiped away the tears in Dean’s eyes, “Sweetheart tell me what’s wrong.”

Dean’s response was so quiet Cas almost missed it. “I don’t want to… do this anymore,” Dean hadn’t spoken in two days and it showed.

Cas’s brow furrowed, “What don’t you want to do?”

“Anything. I don’t want to do… anything. There’s no point, Cas, I’m no good. A useless piece of trash that’s not even good for burning.”

Cas’s breath hitched, “Dean, how could you _ever_ think that of yourself. You are worthy of so much, deserving of so much. And I know you don’t see it, and I can only hope that someday you will. That you will see yourself as I see you – as beautiful, as whole, as perfect.”

Dean shook his head, “You can’t mean that…”

“I mean every word of it, Dean Winchester, because I love you.”

Another tear slipped down Dean’s face. “I love you,” he whispered. “Please stay with me. I don’t wanna be alone.”

Cas laid down beside Dean and wrapped his arms around him, “I will never leave you.”


	4. Episode: Nihilism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Self-harm and violence, talk of abuse

Dean stared at the empty space where Billy had disappeared. Dropping the death book, he sank down to the ground, leaning against the bed. He held his pounding head in his hands, tears filled his eyes, and he wept.

He desperately wished they had the archangel blade or Kaia’s spear, anything that could kill Michael and Dean right along with him. He was tired of fighting, tired of being used, tired of being controlled.

Attempting to see through the tears, Dean pulled open the bedside table’s drawer. He grabbed the ever the present lighter. It had become his preferred method; after being slashed and stabbed his entire life, he had become used to that pain. Fire was something new, it didn’t hurt like anything he’d felt before. Dean shed his flannel hastily, before focusing on the lighter. Staring intently at the small device, he flicked it a couple times, and eventually, a continuous flame blinked to life. Slowly, he brought the flame to his scarred skin. He watched the skin beneath bubble and burn, before moving to a new spot, careful not to stay anywhere too long. The pain felt right. It felt like what he deserved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cas’s head shot towards the doorway. Barely a second passed before he was racing out of the kitchen, Jack calling after him, surely confused.

The Feeling. It was back. He had felt it few times before, and always when he was gone. Dean’s soul had been dimmer, darker, recently, but Cas couldn’t expect any less. He had confronted Dean about it, but of course, by the time Cas could reach him, Dean was always ‘fine’, a cocky smile back on his face. Cas cursed the fact he no longer had his wings. If he had been able to reach Dean in the moment, perhaps he could help, perhaps he could understand why his love’s soul felt so hopeless – full of grief and despair and _utter anguish._ In the past he may have been gone, but today he was here, and Cas was determined to find what was causing Dean such turmoil.

Cas practically ran through the halls, colliding with Sam, who promptly slammed into the opposing wall.

“Cas! What-”

“Your brother, where is he? I must get to him.”

“I, i-in his room I think, why?”

But Cas had run off already. Approaching Dean’s door, he found it locked – but with a little bit of his grace, the handle clicked and turned open. Cas entered quickly; the door swinging shut behind him. The sight before him brought tears to his eyes. Kneeling by Dean’s side he threw the lighter onto the floor, where it clicked shut. He wrapped his arms tightly around Dean, wishing to squeeze the pain from him.

After a few minutes, Cas picked Dean up and sat on the bed, Dean’s legs splayed across his lap. Dean curled into his side, sorrow and shame and fear pouring out of him in tears. Cas waited until Dean had seemed to calm down, or at least, he was no longer crying. “Dean…”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Cas. Gods all I do is mess-up–” ~~~~

“Dean! No,” Cas stopped him, “It’s ok. It will all be ok.”

Dean shook his head, “How can you say that?”

“Because it has _always_ been ok. We’ve always had each other, we’ve always made it through whatever the world, or hell, or heaven, has thrown at us. And we’ll make it through this too,” Cas said, desperately wishing to reassure him.

“I don’t know…” Dean whispered, “this isn’t something we can kill, this is a screwed-up me problem.”

“And we have been through plenty of those too, and we’re still here. Dean what you’re going through, it’s not unbeatable. Me, _Sam,_ we’ve been where you are. You’re not alone in this.”

Dean swiped at the tears on his face, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Cas. I’ve disappointed you again – gods why can’t I just stop hurting people?” His voice full of anger.

Cas was troubled, how could Dean think that, “You have not disappointed me, you never could. Do you understand? I love you Dean. You are so kind and giving, why would you think you hurt people?”

“Because I’m such a m-mess. If I’m not yelling at you or Sam or whoever then I’m failing – I’m messing on hunts and _innocent_ _people_ have to pay for those mistakes.” Dean took a shaky breath, “ _I let Michael in_ , I let him escape, and then back in again; do you know how many people that hurt? How much damage I’ve done? The others are right, I’m pathetic, worthless.”

Cas’s heart ached to know Dean still – and likely always will – blame himself for Michael. But what troubled him more was the ‘others’ part. “Dean, what others? Who is saying such horrible lies about you?”

Dean shrugged, nestling his head further into Cas stomach.

“Dean, please tell me.”

“It’s not important,” He countered.

Cas’s heart hurt, “ _Of course_ it’s important. _Anything_ that has to do with you matters to me. Please, tell me.”

Dean was silent. So much time passed, that Cas had given up any hope that he would talk about it. But then came a faint reply, “Philip mostly.”

“Philip?” White hot anger poured through Castiel’s veins. “The hunter Philip? Dean what did he do to you?”

There was another long pause, but Cas would wait, willing to be as patient as needed. He could scarcely imagine how hard it must be for Dean to talk about this, even to him.

Finally, Dean said, “It’s mostly verbal, blaming me for Michael, showing me how stupid and worthless I really am… he rarely gets physical…”

Cas wanted to storm from the room. He had seen Philip when they returned from Dean’s mind. He wondered if Philip had said anything to Dean today. Castiel vowed that the next time he saw him, Sodom and Gomorrah would seem like a fireworks display compared to what he’d do to the hunter.

But he couldn’t do that yet. He couldn’t leave Dean, not like this. “Dean what he said – and did – to you, it was wrong. So, _so_ wrong. Dean you are the most beautiful, kind human I’ve ever known, and you above all else, deserve happiness. You especially do not deserve any of the pain Philip or Michael or anyone else has put you through. And no matter what, I’ll be here. I will be right by your side every step of the way,” Cas reached for Dean’s hand. “You will make it through this Dean, and we will help you in anything you need.”

Gently, Cas grabbed the arm Dean had been burning. Bringing his fingers down he was about to heal it when Dean shouted, “No!” He yanked his arm away, “I don’t – I – not yet…”

“Okay, okay,” Cas instead held Dean’s hand, “I won’t unless you want me to.” After everything, the last thing Cas wanted was to do something against Dean’s wishes. “I would like to at least bandage them, is that alright?”

Dean nodded and Castiel stood to go get the med kit – and maybe ‘happen’ to bump into Philip – when Dean caught his hand, “Could you, maybe, make that tea again, th-the lavender one, I think? If that’s okay.”

Cas smiled softly, happy the tea was comforting to Dean, “Of course it’s okay. I’ll be back in a few minutes, alright?”

Dean nodded again, laying back on the bed. Before Cas left he made sure to pocket Dean’s lighter, and then focused on the task ahead: Philip.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Putting the tea kettle on the stove, Cas knew he would have at least five minutes before the water would heat. Plenty of time to…take care of Philip. As he was about to exit the kitchen, Sam walked in, “Hey, Cas, why did you run off earlier? What was the big rush? Is De ok?”

“Your brother,” Cas squinted in his usual thinking face. How much would Dean be comfortable telling Sam? “Dean is… dealing with some stuff, but he will be ok, someday.” Sam nodded; he should talk to Dean later.

For the second time that day, Cas confused Sam. Cas abruptly took on what could only be described as a ‘pissed-off’ mood, accompanied by a sudden change of topic. “Where is Philip? The hunter.”

Sam blinked, “Uh – last I saw he was in the armory?” Cas turned on his heels, trench coat flaring, as he walked out of the kitchen.

_Four minutes left._

Just like Sam had guessed, Philip was cleaning and storing the weapons used earlier. Cas marched straight up to him, slamming him against the nearby wall, not only placing his arm on his neck, but using his angelic strength to keep him immobile. “How dare you treat Dean like that. How dare you say such horrible things to him. You don’t think he’s beating himself up for everything that happened? He was already suffering and you beat him while he was down,” Cas was seething. His vision flared and for a second it was all he could do to not reduce the man before him to ash.

Philip had the nerve to roll his eyes. “I treated him like he deserved. He let that monster in, gave him free rule over the whole country – _the whole world._ You really think he should just be welcomed back with open arms?” Philip shook his head in disbelief, “That’s like welcoming the Devil.”

Cas could no longer restrain himself. His fist slammed into Philip’s face with a satisfying crunch of bone. Over and over and over Castiel punched and hit, it was overdue for how Philip had treated Dean. And Cas was sure that if Sam hadn’t chosen that moment to see what Cas was up to, a body would have been burned that night.

“Cas! What the hell?”

_Three minutes._

Shouted Sam, immediately attempting to pull Cas away from a beaten and bloodied Philip. It proved harder than expected, Cas _really_ wanted vengeance. Finally, Cas relented his mission to cover the walls in Philip’s blood, and stood back, shaking himself from Sam’s grip.

Cas jabbed a finger at Philip, who sat in pain on the floor, “This disgusting monster has been horribly _abusing_ your brother, for _weeks._ He has _never_ been possessed before he has no right to treat Dean like he has.” Cas turned his attention toward Sam, “You have no _idea_ what it’s done to Dean. This _man_ has less right to still be alive than Satan – oh wait,” Cas looked pointedly at Philip, “I forgot. According to you, _they’re the same thing._ ”

Now Sam was angry. If everything Cas said was true and more – and he would have no reason to lie, nor was he very good at it – Sam mourned the fact he had stopped Castiel from beating up Philip. “Is this true Philip?”

Philip’s gaze twitched between Cas and Sam, “W-w-what, I – seriously? C’mon man, I mean sure he’s your brother but you know the crap he’s done. And letting in Michael? It’s what he deserves.”

_Two minutes._

Sam’s face darkened, and if Cas hadn’t also been so enraged, even he – an angel – would have been terrified. “I want you out of this bunker in one minute, or _I will_ be dragging your worthless body outside myself.

Philip must have been able to see that now was not the time for rude remarks. With a pained grunt, he pushed himself from the ground, and hastily stumbled from the room, Sam followed him to the doorway, watching as he left.

 _One minute_.

Sam’s shoulders fell, and he dragged a tired hand over his face. “How could I let this happen, Cas?” His once angry voice burdened with grief and regret, “I just wanted to help them, but I just ended up hurting my own brother.”

Cas’s face softened. “Sam, you can’t blame yourself for Philip any more than I can.”

“Yeah, but I should’ve known,” Sam argued. “I mean, why didn’t he come to me?”

“Sam you know why,” Cas said. “Your brother not only blames himself for Michael like Philip did, he believes he deserves such treatment.”

“Is he ok?” Sam asked, voice small.

Cas shook his head, “No. He isn’t. But you and I will help him however we can.”

_3…2…1…_

From the kitchen came the slight sound of the kettle whistling. “I have to go, Dean’s waiting on me.”

“Cas,” he called, catching the angel before he disappeared down the hall. “Do you. I mean, will he even want my help? Do you think he’ll talk to me?”

“Well, you know how Dean is,” Cas replied, “but – maybe. I believe you should try, and I will encourage him to be honest with you. Just give him some time.”

Sam nodded, leaning against the weapons table, face drawn in worry and thought, as Cas left to return to his love’s room.


	5. You Didn't Deserve That

Dean was surprised to see Sam still – he presumed – waiting in the kitchen for him. It was, after all, 10 a.m., Sam was usually doing something important, researching a case, or Michael. He never just sat at the table with a cup of coffee doing nothing. “Morning Sam,” Dean greeted, flicking on the coffee machine to heat.

“Hey Dean…” Sam replied.

Sitting across from him, Dean could clearly see something was bothering his brother, “What’s wrong?”

Sam sighed, shifting on the chair, “I just… I’m sorry Dean. I should have known, I should have stopped him, I–”

“What are you talking about?” Dean interrupted.

Sam finally raised his gaze to Deans, “Philip, Dean. And I just – what he did. I shouldn’t have let that happen.” Panicked rolled off of Dean’s body, so he quickly added, “Cas didn’t tell me much – anything really – but he was acting off, and I walked in on him and Philip.”

Dean twitched in his seat, something, Sam noticed, happened whenever he was stressed or anxious after being possessed, “What did Cas do?”

“Philip’s still alive,” Sam said, as if it were a pity. “But he’s gone, for good.”

Dean nodded, pouring himself coffee, anything to keep him semi-occupied. “I’m sorry Dean,” Sam continued, “I mean, after everything you’ve done for me and I let you get abused in your own home–”

“Stop. Stop,” Dean turned back around to face him. “This isn’t your fault Sammy, okay? Please, don’t put this on yourself, there’s already enough blame between the two of us. You don’t need anymore.”

“Well neither do you.” Dean just rolled his eyes. Sam sighed standing to face his brother, “Dean, c’mon, don’t be so stubborn all the time. You are a good person Dean, and I wish you didn’t carry such a burden – at least not alone. Please, you know you can talk to me, I want to help you.”

Dean bit his lip, thinking, before setting his mug down, and pulling his little brother into a hug, “I know Sammy, I know. Thank you.”

Dean was never one for displays of emotions, especially hugs – a product of his abusive past, he supposes – but it was what Sam needed right now, and ever since finally having a steady relationship with Cas, he found himself a little more okay with. So he stayed until Sam eventually pulled away.

“Anything you need De, just let me know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, this ending was hard to write, and ill likely come back someday and edit it. I really hope you enjoyed, thanks so much for reading, it means the world to me.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts in the comments! If you'd like to see a continuation of this, or another fic in general, leave a prompt in the comments, the more specific, the better! (I do have thoughts of doing one on Lebanon)
> 
> Thanks again!


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